


You Can Leave Your Hat On

by laughter_now



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fic Exchange, Humor, M/M, Suit Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-28
Updated: 2012-07-28
Packaged: 2017-11-10 22:24:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughter_now/pseuds/laughter_now
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike doesn't care about fashion or style, and he never understood Harvey's infatuation with his suits. Or so he thinks, until one day Harvey comes into the office wearing a new suit that turns everything upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Suits. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> This was written for the Suits XMas Secret Santa exchange over at livejournal, as a gift for itsinthedetails.
> 
> René's last name is taken from
> 
> [this](http://tinypic.com/view.php?pic=e97r0o&s=5)
> 
> screenshot from the pilot, and according to IMDb his assitant's name is Cristina.  
> Else I really don't know that much about suits and fashion myself, so I used
> 
> [this](http://www.fashionising.com/trends/b--mens-suit-styles-designs-modern-suits-1467.html)
> 
> helpful site for most of the technical details.  
> Title taken from the Joe Cocker song of the same name.

**Prologue**  
  
  
There's plenty of things people don't know about René Denault, and in fact he prefers it that way. His customers appreciate his services, as they should, because he is convinced that there is nobody else in New York City whose eye for the right fit can hold a candle to his. However, there isn't anything beyond the boundaries of his small yet exclusive store that they need to know about him. His daily interactions are simple: as long as his customers give him free reign, he's going to make sure that they look their absolute best.  
  
In the end, that's all that matters.  
  
His customers don't need to know anything about him beyond their professional encounters. They don't even need to know _how_ René manages to make that particular suit fit them as if they were the one the designer had in mind the moment he first put his sketching pen to the paper. His customers simply need to know that all they have to invest – aside from the mundane fact that the perfect suit doesn't come for free – is trust that René is going to make them look their best.  
  
That is really all they need to know and think about.  
  
His customers don't need to know about the ledger.  
  
If there is one thing in René's life that's important, one thing that's so sacred that not even his assistant Cristina is allowed to look at let alone touch, the one thing he's going to take to his grave, then it's that ledger. It contains all the information he has about his regular clients, and starting from the very first measurements that were taken during their very first visit, it tells the story of the way they have dressed ever since then. The ledger is the place where René writes down his ideas the moment inspiration strikes – no matter if it happens at home right before he goes to bed, during a fashion show, or simply once he catches sight of a particularly interesting cut, style, or ensemble out on the street somewhere.  
  
That ledger contains René's professional life, wrapped up in his very own brand of shorthand. His competitors would probably kill in order to lay their hands on it, which is why he keeps it close at all times.  
  
In that ledger, there are pages upon pages devoted to a man called Harvey Specter.  
  
Of course, if any of his competitors were ever to cast a glance into his ledger – having pried it out of his cold, dead hands, because that's the only way René would ever part with it – they wouldn't know Harvey Specter is one of René's customers. His client list is in his head alone, and each and every reference to Mr. Specter in the ledger is abbreviated as _HS_.  
  
Mr. Specter is one of René's favorite customers for a number of reasons. For one, because of course it is so much easier to make a man look his best when money is no objective, but something else is far more important. Harvey Specter knows that the defining factor between a man and his tailor is absolute trust, just as it is between a lawyer and his client. It took them a while to get there, like it took time to define the man's tastes from the rough jewel he was the first time he walked through the door of René's store to the man of distinct and fine taste he has become.  
  
It was a difficult road at times to get to where they are now. There were battles and disagreements between them, moments when Mr. Specter's youthful stubbornness and nearsightedness threatened to ruin all the hard work René put into the young man's appearance. Some of these moments René can look back on with a smile now, though at the time they seemed quite serious indeed.  
  
There was the _Sack Suit Debacle of 2003_ that nearly destroyed their still young working relationship, an episode which by silent agreement neither of them is ever going to mention again. Neither are they ever going to talk about Mr. Specter's insistence on wearing double-breasted suits while those were absolutely out of fashion. It took a lot of hard work to talk the man out of that particular faux pas, but in the end it strengthened Mr. Specter's inclination to listen to René's advice, so nowadays he considers it a war worth waging.  
  
And then there are the vests…  
  
That particular battle is one René remembers with fondness now, and it's an achievement he's rightfully proud of. He first introduced Mr. Specter to the concept of three-piece suits at a time when the younger man had gained a little weight around his middle. It's René's everyday challenge to hide these imperfections, and since double-breasted suits were still out of fashion – and thankfully Mr. Specter had learned his previous lesson and didn't even mention them this time around – the vests were a viable alternative. After some initial feeble protests Harvey Specter not only learned to _wear_ a vest, he learned how to _own_ it. The additional weight around his waist is long gone by now, but nobody in René's client list looks as if he had been made to wear a three-piece suit the way Mr. Specter does.  
  
It's an accomplishment René is particularly proud of, especially in times like these when so many young men seem to think that merely wearing an off-the-rack suit is enough of a concession to fashion. Harvey Specter has an eye for the finer things in life, and the posture and virility to pull off every look René molds onto him.  
  
So yes, René holds a certain fondness for Harvey Specter, which might be the reason why he is so easy to forgive him almost everything – even the appearance of Mike Ross, who looked far more like someone who got lost on their way to the nearest department store than someone who had any business being in a high-end men's clothing store. But if Harvey Specter sees something in the young man, René is not the one to judge. He's there to make him look his best and prove Mr. Specter right.  
  
Mr. Specter has learned to trust René's judgment, and that might be the reason why his name is one of the most frequently mentions in René's ledger. These days, it is much easier to convince him of a new idea than it was in the beginning – though not all of René's ideas go over without a fight nowadays, either – and it really sparks his professional creativity. He never lacks for inspiration how to dress Harvey Specter for the new season.  
  
It just so happens that one of their regular twice-a-year appointments is coming up when René indulges in a rare pastime activity and spends an evening in front of his TV, flipping through the channels. Most of the program is mind-numbingly stupid, but after a few minutes of channel surfing, he stumbles onto an old James Bond movie. For a second, he just sits there and looks at the screen, finger still poised over the _channel up_ button, then it is as if he can't move fast enough. He nearly trips over his Louis XII chaise in his haste to get up and get his ledger from the desk against the wall, and once he gets his hands on it, he quickly scribbles down his most recent idea with his fountain pen without even bothering to sit down again first.  
  
 _HS fall/winter: three-piece; wool - thread count 150;  Glen plaid; peaked lapel; double vented (!!!); rolled shoulder; color: gray palette, on the lighter side; comp.: Goldfinger; convince him it's a must!!!_  
  
It's a great idea, maybe the best he's had for Harvey Specter so far. At the same time, René knows it's going to take a lot of convincing, especially since he knows how Mr. Specter feels about any kind of patterned fabric that isn't a pinstripe. He can see it in front of him, though, and he _knows_ it's going to look absolutely perfect. He's already mentally going through fabrics and cuts, thinking how to best sell the idea to Mr. Specter. The TV is long forgotten as René pulls out an empty sheet of paper and starts sketching out some of the details while in the background, Sean Connery's image is still flickering across the screen.  
  
It's going to be a lot of work, but he's already looking forward to their next appointment. He's going to convince Mr. Specter that the idea is perfect, and in the end he is going to wear the suit as if he was born to do it. He always does.


	2. You Can Leave Your Hat On

**You Can Leave Your Hat On**  
  
  
  
Sometimes, Mike doubts that this job is the right one for him. He loves the work, there's no doubt about that. He loves the constant challenge, loves the way it puts his mind and abilities to the test over and over again, and he really enjoys working for Pearson Hardman. He likes the people he works with and works for, as well – even Louis. At times. When the other man isn't trying his damned best to be an ass. So…sometimes.  
  
The thing is, as much as Mike loves his work, sometimes it seems that there simply is too much of it. The life of a second year associate is only marginally easier than the life of a first year associate, that's something he's been aware of from an early point on. Sometimes he suspects that Harvey and Louis load more work onto his shoulders than they do on any other associate because they know that he can process a lot more – Harvey because he knows how Mike's mind works, and Louis because after all these months it's impossible that he hasn't realized the sheer amount of information Mike can take in just by reading. It's okay, too. Mike can see it for the compliment to his abilities that it is.  
  
Yet there are those times when the firm is so incredibly busy that it feels as if he has no private life left whatsoever. It's not even a big case that's keeping them busy, just so many different cases to deal with at once that Mike has the feeling the stack of files on his desk keeps growing no matter how many pages he works through. He barely managed to find the time to visit his grandmother these past two weeks, and it's all he can do in the evening to take a quick shower before he falls into bed to get as much sleep as he can before the vicious cycle starts all over again the next day.  
  
It's normal work in the life of an associate for one of New York's biggest law firm, Mike knows that. It just feels like way too long since he's been anything other than ' _Mike Ross – Associate_ '. He'd really prefer to have at least a day of being ' _Mike Ross – ordinary guy who hangs out at his apartment_ ', or a night of being ' _Mike Ross – boyfriend_ '. Sadly, there's not been time for either of those, especially not the latter. He's barely seen Harvey this last week or so. Oh, he's _seen_ him all right, in Harvey's office whenever he was handing over a stack of files he worked through, and in his cubicle whenever Harvey buried Mike's desk in yet more work. They didn't get to talk as anything but boss and associate, though. Mike didn't get to touch, feel, or kiss Harvey, let alone do anything more than that.  
  
A guy can get a little grumpy if he's deprived of sex for two weeks.  
  
It's normal.  
  
There's a silver lining, though. This afternoon, Harvey and one of the junior partners are going to take their respective cases to court, and Louis has a meeting with his client and opposing counsel to settle his case. With any luck, by this afternoon three big cases will be closed and settled, and their workload should be reduced to…well, to what amounts for normal levels here at Pearson Hardman. It's still going to be much, but at least it won't be mind-boggling anymore.  
  
With a sigh, Mike eyes the stack of files that's still left on his desk. The documents for Harvey's case are nearly done, and Mike is absolutely sure that the case is solid, and there's nothing the opposing counsel can pull during the trial that's going to threaten it. He's going to drop the file off at Harvey's office, then he only needs to go through the merger files for Louis and proof another set of briefs for another case, and he should be done for the day. Maybe for once in a blue moon he's going to be out of the office at a reasonable hour.  
  
It's a motivating thought, and with a fresh burst of energy Mike takes the finished files for Harvey and gets up from his chair. If he's lucky, no new work is going to magically appear on his desk while he's away.  
  
Donna is sitting at her desk as he approaches, typing away at her keyboard furiously. She looks up as Mike approaches, and eyes the files clutched in Mike's hand.  
  
"Are those the Peterson files?"  
  
Mike nods and holds them out to her. "Yes. All done and proofed twice."  
  
"Go right in then. Harvey is waiting for them."  
  
Mike doesn't think much of the small wink Donna gives him as she nods her head towards Harvey's office. Half of his brain is already busy compiling the information he needs for Louis' case which he's supposed to tackle next. Since he didn't find anything worrisome in the documents for Harvey's case, he assumes his stay in the older man's office is going to be a short one. Hand over the files, tell Harvey that all is good, point out the two highlighted passages in one of the testimonies that's going to provide plenty of ammunition in case the opposition decides to play dirty, then he can go back to his desk.  
  
Or so he thinks.  
  
Harvey is standing in front of the windows in his office as Mike enters. He's talking on his cell phone, but the way he's pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers is a clear sign that he considers the conversation to be long over even though whoever is on the other side of that conversation apparently hasn't gotten the message yet. He looks up as Mike enters and rolls his eyes at him, but his expression is one of relief.  
  
"Listen Frank, we'll have more than enough time to talk about this when we meet this afternoon. Trust me, there's no need to worry. I've got to go now. I'll see you at the courthouse."  
  
He sighs and puts the phone back into his inside pocket. Only after he re-buttons the jacket does he turn fully towards Mike, but Mike barely notices because something else has caught his eye. Harvey is wearing – well, unsurprisingly he's wearing a suit.  
  
A new one, or at least that's what Mike supposes, because he's never seen Harvey wearing that particular suit before. He's pretty damn sure he'd remember that. Mike is aware that he's staring, probably with his mouth hanging open, but there's nothing he can do about that. He's seen Harvey in a number of different suits before. Hell, he rarely sees him in anything else. He's seen Harvey's wardrobe, and he knows how many different suits the other man owns. It's an own world of fabrics, patterns and cuts that Mike still hasn't gained any kind of real insight to, no matter how often Harvey tried to teach him the essentials.  
  
This, though…  
  
There's no doubt that all of Harvey's suits are exclusive and expensive, and if Mike's the one to judge, he looks great in all of them. He looks great in pretty much everything he wears – and that's not even taking into consideration how great he looks as soon as all those layers of fabric come off and he's naked.  
  
However, if Harvey looks great in his other suits, he looks absolutely jaw-dropping in this one.  
  
The suit is gray, but there's some kind of intricate pattern woven into the fabric that from Mike's perspective almost looks like plaid – though he knows that it can't possibly be plaid, since Harvey wouldn't be caught dead wearing any kind of patterned suit except for the classic Pinstripe. Yet there it is, a clear darker pattern weaving through the gray fabric, thin dark threads weaving along and intersecting to create squares that are a definite plaid pattern.  
  
It's not the fact that Harvey wears a suit with a pattern that makes Mike's mouth go dry, though. It's the way the whole suit frames Harvey's body – fits it like a glove, really – that should be illegal. At the very least, it should require a warning.  
  
Mike is perfectly used to the sight of Harvey in a well-fitted suit, but there's something different about this one. Harvey is well-built even if he's not overly muscular, but the suit jacket does something to the line of his shoulders that makes it look like he's lifting weights regularly. It's the perfect cut for his shoulders, really, enhancing the built that is naturally there without making it look artificial. Now that Harvey has buttoned up the jacket, the wide shoulders make his waistline appear even thinner, creating a perfectly shaped V.  
  
It's a three-piece suit, too. Of course it is, seeing as Harvey and René seem to have some sort of deal going on to bring back the vest. In this case, though, Mike fully supports that choice even though previously he never understood it. The vest is cut low, underlying the v-shape of the entire suit, with the tie tucked neatly into the edge of the vest just beneath his sternum. The tie itself is dark gray, almost black, with thin diagonal white stripes on top of a crisp white shirt.  
  
The suit is _perfect_. In itself, each article of clothing is exclusive and looks great on the older man, but their combination, the way they complement each other and add up to more than just an ordinary suit is something Mike wouldn't have thought possible until now.  
  
René has to be some sort of magician. There really is no other explanation.  
  
Harvey looks positively _edible_.  
  
It's not a good thought to have when he's been sex-deprived for the better part of two weeks, but Mike simply can't help it. He longs to have Harvey close, to kiss and touch, and having him this close to him, dressed in a way that only accentuates each and every part Mike wants to touch is sheer torture.  
  
A hand waving in front of his eyes startles Mike out of his reverie. Without his notice, Harvey has taken a couple of steps closer. He's close enough now that Mike sees that yes, it's really a plaid pattern, one that's far more intricate than he thought before. And now one of those patterned sleeves is waving around right in front of his face, and a hand is touching his shoulder. Mike startles at the unexpected touch, and the file drops from his hand and falls to the floor in a rustle of loose papers. Harvey lets his hand drop to his side again and raises an eyebrow at Mike.  
  
"I sincerely hope that's not the Peterson file you just used to redecorate my floor."  
  
Of course it is, and Mike quickly drops to his knees to reassemble the papers. Fortunately they don't seem to have gotten out of order, and straightening them out and putting them back into the folder doesn't require any higher cognitive function. Which is good, because the change in position gives Mike an entirely new perspective on Harvey's new suit, and it's one that is not conductive to coherent thought.  
  
Harvey's suit pants are made of the same fabric as the jacket – of course they are, because Harvey wouldn't be caught dead wearing clothes that don't match – and Mike feels the blood rush to his cheeks as he realizes that his face is at eye-level with Harvey's crotch now. A crotch clad in a pair of extremely well-tailored pair of pants, and it is obvious that René didn't waste any excess fabric when he tailored them. The way Harvey holds his hands in his pockets, pulling the fabric _tight_ , isn't exactly helping either, and Mike nearly drops the file for the second time in as many minutes as his mind inevitably strays to the thought of what it would feel like to run his hands over the fabric, to feel Harvey harden underneath his touch, to see the fabric of the pants tighten even more with Harvey's growing arousal…  
  
"Having problems down there?"  
  
Harvey might make a living out of reading people, but there's no way he's that good. There's simply no way that his words are meant as the innuendo they sound like, but still Mike can't help the sharp stab of arousal that shoots through his body upon hearing them. He's definitely _having problems down there_ , and if he doesn't get out of here quickly, things are going to get embarrassing. Well, that or he's going to ravage Harvey right here on the couch, for everyone who happens to be walking by to see. Somehow, Mike doesn't think that Harvey would appreciate the consequences of either outcome very much.  
  
He quickly scrambles back to his feet and holds the folder out to Harvey, eyes fixed to a point somewhere beyond Harvey's shoulder.  
  
"The Peterson file. I added the financials on the other two holdings, just in case you need them. And there's two sections in the CEO's initial testimony that I highlighted because he claims to not have known about the threat of bankruptcy before March of this year when the e-mails from our client's computer clearly prove otherwise. I don't think the judge is going to be sympathetic to the opposition's claims once he's shown that they lied in their official records."  
  
Harvey skims through the highlighted sections with a nod of his head before he closes the file and puts it in his briefcase. Unfortunately for Mike, that means he has to bend down in order to retrieve the briefcase from the floor beside the desk, and in the process his jacket slides up and Mike is treated a full view of Harvey's ass as he bends over. The pants stretch tight with the movement, treating all the world a firm view of the evidence that Harvey's ass is a particularly fine specimen.  
  
Mike swears that the whimper that rings through the office is to blame on a faulty air-conditioning unit. Just to make sure though he takes that near-slip as his cue to leave before things get completely out of hand.  
  
"All right, there's this thing for Louis that I still have to do, and then there's this other thing…brief, that's it. I have briefs to proof and things to do. A day in the life of an associate and all that. Good luck in court, I'll talk to you later."  
  
He's not fleeing Harvey's office, no matter what it looks like. It's a tactical retreat, nothing more – admittedly a somewhat hastily executed one, but a tactical retreat all the same. He's definitely not sticking around to see or hear Harvey's reaction to his sudden disappearance. As he hurries past Donna's desk, he sees her look after him with one eyebrow raised, and he's fairly sure that there's a sly smile playing around the corners of her lips, but before he can take a closer look he's already past her desk, and right now getting back to his cubicle is his top priority.  
  
Not that his cubicle is where he really wants to be right now, but his desk is pretty far away and most importantly out of Harvey's direct line of sight, and for now that's going to have to do. His legs are actually feeling kind of wobbly as he finally reaches his desk and sinks down in his chair with a sigh.  
  
God, that _suit_.  
  
Mike honestly can't believe that he's having such a strong reaction to a piece of clothing of all things. Harvey's suits are always tailored to fit him incredibly well. It's nothing new, and yet there's something about this particular suit that affects him like nothing did before. It's not vastly different from his other suits, but now that Mike has gotten away from the suit's direct field of influence, he can actually sit down and think about it. If only he can rationalize what makes this suit so different, maybe he can control his reaction to it a little better the next time he sees Harvey in it.  
  
It's the subtle differences that makes the new suit stand out against the older ones, he decides. There's something different about the way the shoulders are padded, with the shoulder pads rolling over almost imperceptibly into the sleeves, and it makes Harvey's shoulders look broader than they are. It makes him look _built_ , a look that is only underlined by the cut of the rest of the suit. It's narrow in all the right places, slimming his waist and accentuating everything that needs to be accentuated. Mike forces himself not to think about the way the fabric of his pants stretched tight over Harvey's ass as he bent over, or at least he tries to push those thoughts away for now at least, because that image is not one he's going to forget anytime soon.  
  
He has to stop thinking about this before he embarrasses himself. Already he can feel himself hardening in his pants – he's actually getting a _hard-on_ from thinking about a _suit_ , for crying out loud! – and this has to stop. It has to stop right now, otherwise he's probably going to lock himself in the bathroom and not come out again for the remainder of the afternoon. That simply won't do, and not only because in that case he'll never get his remaining work done.  
  
Work.  
  
Right.  
  
Work should provide just the distraction he needs right now.  
  
For the first time in the past two weeks, the pile of files on his desk hasn't grown visibly during his absence, and Mike takes a deep breath as he pulls the stack of files for Louis' merger agreement closer towards himself. If there's anything that can take his mind off Harvey's suit, it's going to be the world's most boring merger agreement. He flips open the folder and starts to read.  
  
By the time he has worked through everything Louis needs from him, it's early afternoon and Mike is about to go out of his mind.  
  
Finalizing a merger after months and months of disagreements, meetings and deliberations is a thing of satisfaction, Mike knows that. Even more so if there was a time in the past when the two merging parties went up against one another legally. Mike is happy for the firm that this deal is going through. Hell, he's even happy for Louis, even though he knows that the junior partner is going to be unbearably smug about this for days, if not weeks.  
  
What Mike isn't happy about is that he has to proofread and check all those documents talking about the companies' previous legal engagements. If he has to read the word _lawsuit_ just one more time, he's going to go crazy. Previously Mike never paid any mind to the composition of that particular word, but right now it is as if the last syllable is glaring at him mockingly whenever his eyes skim across it.  
  
Lawsuit.  
  
Law _suit_.  
  
There have been way too many law _suits_ between those companies in the past, and every single one of them gets mentioned in those files, over and over again. And every time Mike reads that word, his brain skips the first three letters entirely and only takes notice of the last part of the word. Inevitably, his mind goes to a dirty place, a place where Harvey and that new suit of his are the only things that matter.  
  
It's not helping that today of all days should be the one where Harvey is walking by almost constantly. He's not walking into the associate's area just once, and Mike is sure that since Harvey has court at eleven he actually leaves the office for a couple of hours, but it feels as if whenever Mike looks up, his eyes unerringly find Harvey – walking down the corridor, on his way back from what has to be Jessica's office with a folder in his hand, standing there talking to one of the junior partners. It should be impossible, but Mike figures that if anyone can manage to be in two places at once for the simple reason to torture Mike, then it is Harvey.  
  
Rationally Mike knows that Harvey isn't doing anything different than he normally does, that Mike is only taking more notice of it because of the suit, but he has to admit that he's long past the point where rational thought would still help him. If anything, the suit looks even better from a distance. Up until today Mike never really appreciated the huge window fronts and the sheer amount of glass walls in the offices, but today he definitely learns to value that the corridors are flooded with natural light. If anything, the lighting makes Harvey look even better in the suit.  
  
More than once, Mike catches himself staring at the empty corridor ahead long after Harvey's form has vanished, and he has to force himself to return to his work – which is reading about yet more law _suits_ , so it's fair to say that Mike is caught up in a vicious circle from which there's no escaping until he gets those merger files done and proofs the remaining briefs on his desk.  
  
So yes, Mike is a little on edge about the whole thing, but in all fairness he thinks that he can't really be blamed for it. Seeing Harvey in that suit was a damn tease, especially since he can only look but not touch until his workday is over, and he can't focus on his files properly to make the damn day be over already because he keeps thinking about that suit, about how delicious Harvey looks in it, and most of all about how great it would feel under his fingers as he peels it away from Harvey's skin.  
  
It's unfair, and people are bound to notice how flustered Mike is about the whole thing. Of course, it's just his shitty luck that the one person who does notice is Louis of all people. When Mike drops off the files for the merger later in the afternoon, the junior partner looks him up and down from narrowed eyes.  
  
"You look flustered. Why are you looking flustered?"  
  
Mike is taken aback. "I…I don't know. I don't think…I'm not flustered."  
  
It doesn't seem possible, but Louis' eyes narrow even further. "Are you getting sick?" He drops the file Mike handed him onto the desk and starts rubbing his fingers, as if he's trying to get rid of any potential germs that might be attacking him.  
  
"No, I'm not getting sick. I probably just had too much caffeine." He adds a smile to the statement, but the moment his lips pull up he realizes that it probably looks less reassuring and more manic, and Louis keeps eyeing the file like it's going to jump and choke him any moment now.  
  
"All right then. I'm sure you still have work to do." He makes a shooing motion with his hand, eyes still on the file, and Mike gladly takes this as his cue to leave. He really needs to get his act together, or else he's going to make a fool of himself before the day is out. It's all Harvey's fault, Harvey and his damn suit that Mike just can't get out of his head.  
  
He doesn't really notice how he gets back to his desk since his mind is once more busy contemplating the wonder of fashion that is Harvey Specter's new suit. There's just something about it, some memory it stirs that Mike can't quite put his finger on, and it's driving him crazy. Everything about the damn suit is driving him crazy and is making his fingers itch with the need to touch, to run his fingers over every square inch of fabric and along every single seam. At the mere thought of it, a sharp spike of arousal spikes through him and settles almost painfully in his groin, and Mike quickly crosses his legs and scoots his chair as close to his desk as possible.  
  
He's getting hard – again – at the mere thought of Harvey in his new suit, and it can't go on like that. He needs to get his work done as quickly as possible, he needs to get out of here, and then he needs to get Harvey and that plaid suit somewhere private so that he can strip the thing off him piece by piece. And he's going to take his sweet time doing it.  
  
It's a plan. At least as good a plan as Mike can come up with in his current situation while more and more blood is deserting his brain and traveling farther south like a flock of birds migrating for winter. It'll have to do for now, even if his boxer briefs continue to feel uncomfortably tight and he keeps crossing and uncrossing his legs surreptitiously in hopes of alleviating some of the pressure. It's just one more stack of files, a single set of briefs for another of the junior partners that need proofing and which ended up on Mike's desk because…well, actually he has no idea why the hell they ended up on his desk, but it doesn't matter right now.

Just one more set of briefs, then he's done for the day. He can do this.

The briefs are indeed in dire need of proofing, and they leave Mike wondering if none of the partners at this firm ever use spell-check when they draft these things. It's just his luck, of course, because it means Mike doesn't only have to check the facts, but he also has to make sure that no embarrassing spelling mistakes slip through and end up in the final documents. He doesn't look at the clock just once while he's working because he knows that time is flying by a lot faster than he'd like. By the time he's done and finally dares to look up, it's already past eight, which means that in all likelihood Harvey has already left for today.  
  
Still, Mike walks by his office to make sure, and when he finds Donna's area deserted and Harvey's office dark for the night he sends off a quick text message to the older lawyer before he hurries back to his desk to grab his messenger bag. They haven't arranged to meet tonight, and they're definitely not the kind of people who randomly drop in on one another unannounced. So he's convinced that the text is going to get him into some kind of trouble, but right now he doesn't particularly care. He's _Mike Ross – Man on a Mission_ now, and that mission involves a particular man and a particular suit, and Mike is not going to stop until he gets what he wants.  
  
It's a 25 minute bike-ride to Harvey's apartment building, one that would have him arriving there sweaty and out of breath, and while that is a state Mike is striving to achieve at some point this evening, he'd rather not start the whole encounter like that. Instead he hails down a cab and gives the driver Harvey's address. The drive is sheer torture, and in the end Mike resorts to reciting the financials he compiled for Louis earlier in his head. They're still as boring as they were the first time around, but at least they take his mind off Harvey and his suit and stop him from having to pull his messenger bag into his lap in order to hide what's going on with him.  
  
After what feels like far too long, the cab finally pulls up in front of Harvey's apartment building, and Mike hands over some bills without really looking and gets out of the car as quickly as he can without stumbling over his own feet and falling flat on his face. He manages to get into the building without making a complete fool of himself, which is a small miracle in itself considering his single-minded mental state. The doorman in the lobby looks at him attentively but doesn't stop him as he hurries over towards the elevator, which either means that Harvey called and told him about Mike's impending arrival, or else security in this building leaves a lot to be desired. Again, Mike doesn't particularly care because the elevator arrives and it's all he can do not to tap his foot nervously while he's riding up to Harvey's floor.  
  
Harvey takes his sweet time opening the door. Mike has his hand raised to knock for the third time when it's finally pulled open and Mike finds himself face to face with Harvey. There is an expression on his face that's not particularly amused, and he has one eyebrow raised at Mike the way he does when he's trying to silently reprimand Mike about something, but Mike barely takes notice of either in face of the fact that yes, Harvey is still wearing the suit. He's inside the condo the moment Harvey steps aside to let him in, but before he can give in to the urges that are threatening to take over, Harvey pulls his cell phone out of his inside pocket and holds it up towards Mike.  
  
"Care to tell me what this is about?"  
  
He doesn't sound particularly amused, either, but there's also no real heat to the words. Just…puzzlement, because that text was so outside Mike's usual scope of behavior that Harvey probably can't explain what brought it on – and Mike knows how much Harvey hates it when he doesn't know what's going on. It doesn't matter, though, because Mike plans on letting him know as soon as possible. He doesn't need to re-read the text Harvey is holding out to him for that because he still remembers typing it out before he left the office.  
  
 _I'll be over in twenty. Whatever you do, don't take off that suit._  
  
He didn't.  
  
That's the one thing that really matters. Harvey is still wearing the suit, and René really is a magician because even after a full day at the office, it still doesn't look wrinkled just one bit.  
  
Harvey is still holding the phone out towards him, and Mike takes it and puts it down on the side table near the door without another word. Harvey is still looking at him expectantly, fully expecting an answer to his question, but Mike is finally close enough to touch, and there's nothing else he can think about. His hands settle on Harvey's upper arms almost of their own accord, and he bites his lip hard at the realization that yes, this feels exactly the way he thought it was going to feel. The fabric is soft underneath his palms, and it's warm from Harvey's body heat. Mike swallows down the embarrassing whimper that builds up in his throat.  
  
"Mike?"  
  
Harvey's voice sounds more puzzled than impatient now, and with a small shudder Mike runs his hands along Harvey's sleeves once before he leans in closer.  
  
"Do you have any idea what I've been through today?"  
  
Harvey raises an eyebrow, but it's clear from his expression that he had no idea what Mike is talking about.  
  
"Weren't you proofing files all day long?"  
  
"I'm not…god, I'm not talking about _that_ , you idiot." Harvey bristles at the insult, but Mike doesn't give him any chance to get a word in. "I'm talking about _you_ , strutting around the office all day long in that damn suit of yours. _This_ suit…," he runs his hands along the shoulders and over Harvey's back, half to illustrate his point, but also to simply feel the fabric underneath his hands. "It's been driving me crazy. Absolutely crazy."  
  
The corner of Harvey's mouth twitches once in what could be amusement. "So you noticed the new suit."  
  
"Noticed? Did I _notice_ the new suit? Do you…?"  
  
Words fail him completely, and judged by the smug grin that is now tugging at the corners of Harvey's mouth he knows exactly what Mike is talking about. Mike has no choice, all he can do is pull Harvey closer by the back of his neck and kiss that grin right off his face. Harvey is immediately responsive against him, opening up into the kiss despite Mike's unusual forcefulness. They kiss until Mike is completely breathless and has to withdraw, his palms pressed against the fabric covering Harvey's chest.  
  
"This suit…do you have any idea what seeing you like this has been doing to me for the entire day?"  
  
Harvey straightens his jacket, the smug grin back on his face which can only mean that he thinks he has regained the upper hand.  
  
"René did a good job, didn't he?"  
  
As far as Mike is concerned, René did an outstanding job, one he deserves an award for. Maybe a Nobel Prize while they're at it, and free reign over Harvey's wardrobe for as long as they both shall live. But the jumbled thoughts never make their way out of Mike's mouth because instead of answering he pulls Harvey close again and presses their mouths together once more. He figures it'll be answer enough for Harvey, and right now Mike has other plans than to talk the night away.  
  
While they're still kissing he starts moving them down the short hallway and towards the bedroom, and much to his surprise Harvey follows without question. It's difficult to walk while kissing, even more awkward because Mike is still running his hands over the fabric of Harvey's suit jacket, but somehow they manage to reach the bedroom without tumbling to the floor in an undignified heap. It's a good thing, too, because Mike's not too sure he'd still have the coordination to get up again.  
  
Once they're in the bedroom, Mike manages the impossible and tears himself away from both, Harvey's lips against his and the feel of the suit underneath his palms. Just one step away from him feels like entirely too much, but they'll get back to that in a minute. His legs feel suspiciously wobbly, but he manages to make his way over towards Harvey's wardrobe and pull out a hanger.  
  
Harvey watches him attentively, his face schooled into the same neutral expression he always wears whenever the opposing counsel does something unexpected. It's his _watch-and-wait_ face, the one that means his mind is busy figuring out how to adapt his strategy to the new developments, but if Mike has any say in the matter Harvey is not going to take charge of anything. Not tonight.  
  
Mike tosses the hanger onto the seat of a nearby chair and steps close again, right into Harvey's personal space until he can feel the other man's body heat even through the layers of fabric separating them. Unerringly, his hands find their way to the sleeves of Harvey's suit jacket again, eyes following the movements of his hands over the fabric. Almost automatically, his fingers start tracing the dark pattern in the gray wool.  
  
"It's plaid," he blurts out, disbelief evident in his voice as he leans in for another breathless kiss. Harvey chuckles into his mouth, a sound that turns into a small breathless sigh as Mike's lips leave his in order to kiss a line down his cheek and towards his neck.  
  
"Glen plaid," Harvey specifies, and Mike is quite pleased to note that his voice sounds somewhat shaky. "René's idea."  
  
Of course it was. Mike has no idea what it took the tailor to convince Harvey of the idea to wear a patterned fabric, but he's eternally grateful that he did it.  
  
"It's soft." That's all he can think of with his fingers still moving over the fabric of Harvey's suit jacket. He honestly never thought about suits in this category, especially since his own suits tend to be somewhat on the scratchy side, much to Harvey's everlasting chagrin.  
  
"It should be, considering how much the suits cost me."  
  
That statement has Mike perking up with renewed interest. " _Suits_? As in there's more than one of those?"  
  
Harvey huffs out something that sounds like a laugh. "What, you honestly think that I'm submitting to René's special treatment for just one suit? I have two more new suits right here, and I can pick up another two on Wednesday."  
  
Mike definitely does not whimper at the mere though that there's four more potentially breathtaking suits just waiting for Harvey to wear them. If they only look half as good as this one does, work is going to be _hell_.  
  
Harvey chuckles, which means that one of the embarrassing sounds Mike has been trying to suppress for the past minutes must have made it out of his throat after all.  
  
"You can't do that to me," Mike breathes out. "Do you know how fucking hard it was not to tear that suit off you right there, in the middle of your office for all the world to see? I've been walking around with a hard-on for most of the day just thinking about it."  
  
Harvey smiles, but before he can say anything in response Mike presses their lips together once more. He doesn't want to talk right now; they've been doing far too much of that already. He wants to strip this gorgeous suit off piece by piece, wants to feel every piece of fabric glide through his fingers until there's nothing left but bare skin.  
  
When they break apart, panting for air in the fragment of an inch between their lips, Mike slides his hands along the shoulder padding.  
  
"It's different than your other suits," he says even as he gives in to the temptation to nibble and kiss along the strong line of Harvey's jaw. "I don't know how, but it does something to your shoulders…"  
  
"Different padding." Harvey isn't idle, either. His own hands are busy sliding underneath Mike's suit jacket, fingers ghosting over the small of his back. "It rolls down into the top of the sleeves. According to René, it makes the shoulders look wider."  
  
"It does." Mike is ready and willing to take René's words as gospel at this point. He doesn't particularly care about the technical details, though. If Harvey told him that René was using witchcraft to make the suit look this amazing, he'd be ready and willing to believe it, too. He lets his hands roam further, over the tips of the peaked lapels that rest against Harvey's collarbones, and down the collar until he reaches the jacket buttons. There's three of them, and the top two are done. Mike's fingers feel strangely numb as he struggles to get them open. Harvey shifts and makes move to shrug the jacket off, but Mike stills him with a quick movement. Instead, he slides the jacket off Harvey's shoulders himself, reveling in the soft sound of the silk lining gliding over the shirt.  
  
Harvey seems fully prepared to let the jacket drop to the ground, but Mike keeps a firm grip on it and once it slides off completely, he picks up the discarded hanger and carefully hangs the jacket up on the doorknob. When he turns around again, he finds that Harvey is watching him with unhidden amusement. The only possible answer to that is to kiss the growing smirk right off his face, because Mike really isn't in any mood to discuss his sudden and new urge to treat a suit as more than a convenient piece of clothing.  
  
Mike always thought that a suit looks a little incomplete without the jacket, but if at all possible Harvey looks even hotter now. The shirt is stark white against his tanned skin, and the gray vest feels just as soft and exquisite under Mike's fingers as the jacket did. He's getting hard, painfully so, and it's ridiculous how much that suit turns him on even though not a single glimpse of Harvey's skin is revealed yet.  
  
"You know, I never understood the vests." He runs his fingers along the vertical line of buttons. The bottom one is undone, but by now he knows it's not an oversight. Harvey tried to teach him a long time ago that the last button is supposed to be undone, but Mike never really understood the need to sew on a button nobody was ever going to use. He still doesn't understand it, but he really appreciates the small sliver of white shirt it reveals above the waist of the suit pants.  
  
"Oh, and now you do?"  
  
Mike shakes his head. "No. But I think I'm learning to appreciate them."  
  
Harvey laughs, the kind of laugh that makes the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkle. It's the kind of laugh Mike wants to hear more often, though he's actually sure he never heard it while they were amongst other people. There's a gleam in Harvey's eyes that normally says Mike's in for trouble, the kind of trouble that usually ends up in a mind-blowing orgasm so Mike never really has any reason to complain. And it's not like he can hide his infatuation with Harvey's new suit in any way, not with his cock straining against the fabric of his pants.  
  
"They're helpful slimming down the waistline," Harvey says, and it takes Mike a moment to remember that they were talking about the vest. Before he can respond, Harvey is leaning in for another kiss so that Mike can feel his lips move against his own with his next words. "Between that and the shoulders, it creates a perfect v-shape."  
  
Mike doesn't think Harvey's waistline needs any slimming down, but he does appreciate the visual of wide shoulders and a v-shaped upper body. He knows that Harvey has no reason to hide anything about his body, and right now Mike is seriously lacking behind in stripping this suit off of him to reveal what's underneath. He really needs to do something about that.  
  
His fingers fumble a little as he's working open the vest. The buttons are smaller than those on the jacket, but he gets the hang of it after the second try. Soon enough the vest falls open, but instead of sliding it off Harvey's shoulders, Mike runs his hands up over the older man's chest – and here's the proof that underneath it all, both Harvey and René are at least a little human, because the shirt is definitely creased after a long day at the office – until he reaches the starched collar. He flips up the collar, and if he uses the movement to run his fingers over the juncture of Harvey's neck and shoulder, well, then nobody needs to know about that.  
  
Mike's fingers are twitching to take off Harvey's tie as quickly as possible, potential damages to the expensive fabric be damned, but he forces himself to slow down, to loosen and undo the knot the proper way because somehow it feels that this suit deserves the best possible treatment. The silk feels soft and cool against his fingers, and Harvey's breath hitches slightly as Mike pulls the two ends free and his fingers immediately shift towards the shirt buttons.  
  
The top button is most difficult because the collar is snug against Harvey's throat. His fingers inadvertently brush against the skin on Harvey's chin, hot and slightly stubbly underneath his fingers, and it takes all of Mike's self control to not rip the shirt off him right then and there, buttons be damned. Harvey's breathing is fast and slightly hitched, and the sound of that alone makes Mike grow even harder in his pants. It takes a bit of fumbling and is definitely not as smooth and quick as he'd like, but Mike manages to open all the buttons on Harvey's shirt from top to bottom without losing his mind over it.  
  
Harvey isn't wearing an undershirt, and as the shirt falls open it reveals a v-shaped stretch of tanned skin and a fine dusting of chest hair, and that sight is about all Mike's patience can stand. There are possible scenarios where he could drag this out and make it last, where he would take his time to kiss and caress every inch of newly exposed skin, but frankly he's been waiting for this ever since he first saw Harvey in his new suit, and his patience is all used up. His hands are shaking slightly as he moves to slide the clothes off Harvey's shoulders, shirt and tie and vest all in one movement, and it's only when Harvey takes a half step back and the heat of his hand against the small of Mike's back vanishes that he remembers that Harvey's been holding on to him for the entire time.  
  
Mike manages to get Harvey's shirt off, and though his brain seems barely capable of processing more than _naked_ and _now_ and _bed_ , he still takes the extra step to the side to put the shirt, tie and vest on the seat of the nearby chair in a somewhat orderly fashion. Harvey heard him admit to liking the vest only a couple of minutes ago, so it won't do to follow up on that confession by creasing it.  
  
Harvey's chest is heaving slightly in time with his breaths when Mike returns to his previous position, and as his hands settle back against Mike's hip and the small of his back, seeping heat into his skin through the fabric of Mike's own suit, it feels like the right thing to move in for another breathless kiss while his hands skim down the glorious expanse of bare skin that is Harvey's chest and sides. He's determined, though, and no matter how enticing the thought, he doesn't linger. Instead, his hands drift down towards the waistband of Harvey's suit pants.  
  
This morning, the thought of feeling Harvey through those pants was enough to give him an immediate hard-on. The reality is so much better. The fabric of the pants is soft and Harvey's cock underneath it is hard, and the combination is driving Mike insane. His fingers move towards the button of the pants – no belt to get out of the way first, because pants tailored by René the Magician don't require something as worldly as a belt to hold them up – but before he can manage to get it open he realizes that this is not going to work.  
  
"Shoes," he rasps out and pushes Harvey back a little. "Take them off."  
  
There's a spark of amusement in Harvey's eyes, and the corner of his mouth does that damned little twitch again like he's going to disagree just for the sake of it. It last for all of a second, then something that almost looks like mischief crosses his face that would make Mike wonder who exactly is having the upper hand here right now if he wasn't so damn aroused and single-mindedly determined to get Harvey naked now.  
  
As it is he barely notices, so he's completely blind sighted when instead of sitting down on the edge of the bed like any sane person would have done, Harvey executes a half-spin and then in one smooth movement bends down to untie the shoelaces. Mike's pretty damn sure another embarrassing whimper escapes his throat as the movement puts Harvey's ass on display less than a foot away from him, fabric stretched tight over it and leaving no doubt whatsoever that Harvey's choice of underwear, if he decided to wear any at all, definitely doesn't consist of baggy boxer shorts.  
  
It's too much.  
  
With a sound that resembles a growl, Mike closes the gap between them and hauls Harvey upright, his back to Mike's chest as his fingers scramble for Harvey's pants button. He pulls down the zipper and pushes down the pants in one movement, no longer giving a damn as to how the hell Harvey gets out of his shoes. All he does care about is getting Harvey on the bed right the fuck now, because this has gone on far too long already.  
  
The pants are left in a heap on the floor, which is a pity since they really would have earned a more reverend treatment. He can always pick them up later, though. For now, Harvey has dropped to his back on the bed, his erection clearly outlined under his black boxer briefs, while Mike himself is still fully dressed, and that just won't do.  
  
He takes a lot less care of how he gets out of his own suit than he did with Harvey's. The jacket just drops to the floor, he pulls his tie off carelessly and he's pretty sure he pops a button or two on his shirt as he tries to work it open. He doesn't care, though, and neither does he care about the physical impossibility of walking and dropping his pants while he's toeing off his shoes at the same time, and by some small miracle he manages to not fall flat on his face but instead strips naked in what has to be record time.  
  
Harvey seems fully on board with the idea because by the time Mike climbs onto the bed he has taken off his briefs and socks and is leaning back on his elbows, naked and aroused and completely at ease.  
  
It's an even better look on him than the suit, even though that comes in as a close second.  
  
Mike takes a second or two to take in the sight, but then it's too much and he needs to stop looking and start touching right the fuck now. It's all hot skin against skin and delicious friction as he settles on top of Harvey and claims his mouth again. Mike already knows that he's not going to last for very long, and even while they're still kissing, he is reaching towards the drawer of the bedside table in search of lube and a condom, all but shoving them at Harvey when they break apart for air.  
  
"Damn tease," he murmurs against the skin of Harvey's neck at the first touch of a finger against him. It's an effort to force out the words when he feels like he can't suck in enough oxygen no matter how hard he breathes, but it feels vital to let Harvey know that he was fighting with some pretty damn unfair means today. "Thought about this for the entire day. About stripping that suit off you piece by piece."  
  
"And now you did," Harvey replies, and Mike is strangely satisfied to hear the breathless undertone to his voice, to see the way his eyes flutter closed and he throws his head back just a little as Mike gyrates against him, increasing the friction between them.  
  
"I did. But you can't keep doing that to me. Can't…god, right there…can't walk around the office like that, giving me an instant boner every time you walk by."  
  
Harvey chuckles at that, a sound Mike can never get enough of, but right now he'd prefer it if they left the entertainment behind and got right down to the fucking, thank you very much. Harvey doesn't let Mike's urgency deter him, though. No matter how much he tries to convince the other man with his hands and lips and tongue, Harvey takes his sweet time preparing him, spreading him open. When he finally slides into him, Mike feels as if he's about to burst at the seams already, all trace of coherency gone as he presses his palms against Harvey's shoulders and starts moving himself up and down.  
  
Mike never thought he'd ever lose his mind over something, but here he is, in bed with Harvey, and his mind is a tumble of images of Harvey in that amazing suit and Harvey naked, trying to decide which of those images is more arousing and unable to come up with an answer. It doesn't matter though, because he's got Harvey naked beneath him right now, skin against skin and hands roaming everywhere at once, and it feels so damn good that Mike is almost willing to forgive Harvey for having to sit through an entire day at work in various stages of arousal.  
  
He's been aroused for too long, though, and this simply feels too good despite the way his thighs are straining from his movements. It's a sweet burn, though, one that's only fueling the wave of pleasure Mike is riding on, and it's too much, the images of Harvey in his head and the feel of Harvey beneath him, it's all too much and the wave is cresting and sends Mike tumbling into the brilliant relief of his release. He's distantly aware of Harvey thrusting up into him a few more times before he tumbles right along after Mike.  
  
It gets a little fuzzy after that for Mike. He's aware that he's moving though his body feels strangely boneless, but there is the heat of Harvey's body beside him and he turns toward it like a beacon, settling against him as he waits for his breathing to slow and for his heart to stop pounding in his chest.  
  
The first thing that really penetrates the hazy afterglow is the sound of Harvey chuckling beside him, something Mike feels more as a vibration in the other man's chest than he actually hears it.  
  
"So, you really like the suit, huh?"  
  
Harvey is so obviously gloating – and if there is a single person on Earth who is able to gloat while he's completely out of breath, it's Harvey Specter – that Mike wants to cut him off with a witty comeback, he really does, but his mind isn't exactly the most trustworthy instrument during the afterglow. His brain to mouth-filter is practically nonexistent during those first couple of minutes, and it's all he can do to keep himself in check enough to not say something hopelessly sappy that he's really going to regret later on.  
  
Besides, he's too much out of breath for a real rant, anyway.  
  
"You can't wear it to the office anymore."  
  
Harvey shifts a little at that, which prompts Mike to raise his head just far enough off its comfortable resting spot on Harvey's chest to look at him. Harvey is doing that eyebrow-thing again, and something in Mike's chest does a funny flip at the sight.  
  
"Why the hell not? Do you know how much I paid for that suit?" Harvey is still just as out of breath as Mike is, and Mike finds himself hoping that's going to cut the rant short. However, Harvey seems to have saved up some air, or maybe he just doesn't need as much oxygen as an average human, because he keeps right on going. "Tell me why I would pay that much money for a suit I'm not allowed to wear? Especially since nobody except for René and maybe Donna tells me what I can and can't wear, and most certainly not someone like you who thinks that skinny ties and polyester suits are the peak of fashion."  
  
"You can't wear it because if you do, I'll have to take it off of you again. And if I can't, I'm still going to think about getting you out of the suit for the entire day." Mike lifts his head once more and tries to direct the most forceful glare he can come up with at Harvey. "Do you want me to walk around with a hard-on all day? At the office? And do you want me to have to explain that to Louis? Because I nearly had to have that conversation with him today, and I don't ever want to think the words ' _Louis_ ' and ' _hard-on_ ' in the same sentence ever again. God…"  
  
He lets his head drop to Harvey's chest again, and with a chuckle Harvey brings his fingers up into his hair, running them over his scalp. "You never answered my question, though."  
  
"Huh?" Mike answers, somewhat dumbly.  
  
"You like the suit?"  
  
"Do I like…I _love_ the suit, all right? I think the suit is amazing, and I have no idea what René was thinking of when he came up with it, but I'm thinking I need to send him a thank you note. Or a gift. Yes, a gift. Only, I don't think he likes me and I don't know anything about him, so I'm going to need help figuring out how to thank him. Hey, Donna knows everything, right? Think she can do me a favor and help me find the right thank you gift for your suit guy?"  
  
Yes, his brain to mouth-filter has definitely taken a leave of absence. Harvey is silent for a moment, then he chuckles and somehow manages to make it sound indulgent.  
  
"A word for the wise – don't ask Donna for a favor. It's like jumping into shark-infested waters while you're bleeding, and she's going to have you in her hand for a long time. Tell her you need an ally, that's going to send her plotting and keep her off your back at the same time."  
  
Mike can't believe what he's hearing.  
  
"Did you just give me advice on how to handle Donna?"  
  
Harvey shrugs. "You tell her about it and I'm going to deny everything. I can't get on her bad side, she's practically running my life."  
  
Mike thinks that the prospect of getting on Donna's bad side is a scary one in itself, and definitely not one he's willing to try out. For now though, he's content to settle against Harvey's side and bask in what remains of the afterglow. Harvey's fingers are moving steadily through his hair, and the touch is so soothing that he's about to drift off to some well-deserved sleep when Harvey's voice pulls him back again.  
  
"And as to what the hell René was thinking when he came up with the suit, I can't tell you that. But I can tell you what he was thinking _of_."  
  
"Oh? And what is that?"  
  
Harvey remains silent for a second, as if he's deliberating whether or not to really say what's on his mind. Eventually though, he does.  
  
" _Goldfinger_. Connery as James Bond."  
  
Even though Mike can't see Harvey's face, he can practically hear the grin his mouth pulls into as he says the words. Mike thinks about it for a moment, and yes, he can see where René got the idea. Connery really isn't that bad a comparison. Not that he'd ever tell Harvey that, of course. But yeah, he likes the idea.  
  
And maybe one of those other new suits turns out to be a tux. That'd be heaven. But even if that's not the case, Mike is really looking forward to seeing the rest of Harvey's new winter collection. He'll just have to make sure he doesn't see them at the office for the first time, otherwise he can't guarantee for anything.


	3. Epilogue

**Epilogue**  
  
  
René Denault freely admits that he's a creature of habit. So the first thing he does every morning before he opens his store for business is to check the mail.  
  
It's not any different this morning, but as he sorts the mail into neat little piles on his desktop, a white envelope falls into his hands that holds no return address and no stamp. It simply has his name written on it in a hasty scrawl, and it peaks his curiosity because an envelope like this in the mail definitely is an out of the ordinary occurrence in his life. He decides to save the invoices and regular mail for later and slices the letter open.  
  
Inside is a single folded sheet of paper and what looks like two tickets. Even more curious now, he pulls them out and turns them over, and for a moment he's convinced that his eyes are playing tricks on him. But even after he blinks a few times, the words on the tickets remain the same. It's two premiere tickets for the Broadway play nobody should even _know_ René wants to see so badly. He's been trying to get tickets for any showing for months now, but it's completely sold out and despite his good contacts René wasn't able to lay his hands on any kind of ticket so far. And now someone is sending him tickets for the premiere?  
  
It's unusual and surprising, and now he really needs to know where those tickets come from. Quickly he pulls out the accompanying letter and unfolds it, surprised when all he finds are two lines in the same distinct scrawl as on the envelope.  
  
 _Thank you for Harvey Specter's new suits.  
You're a true magician.  
MR_  
  
It takes him a moment to catch up on who _MR_ could possibly be, but then he remembers the stray puppy Mr. Specter sent to his store. A hopeless case, or so René thought up until this day. But if Mr. Ross appreciates Mr. Specter's new collection enough to get him those exclusive tickets as a thank you, maybe he's not quite that hopeless after all. Though why the young man would feel the need to express his thanks for another man's clothing is a mystery to him, and maybe something he shouldn't be thinking about too much.  
  
His clients' private lives are none of his business, after all. However, it's good to know that Mr. Ross might not be a lost cause yet. After all, not even Mr. Specter was the perfect connoisseur of fashion the first time he entered René's store. They got there through a lot of hard work, and maybe Mr. Ross is someone worth investing the same amount of time and energy on.  
  
He will have to see.  
  
He's going to inquire after Mr. Ross the next time Mr. Specter comes in for an appointment. For now though, René has mail to sort through and a store to open, and underneath all that he has a Broadway play to look forward to.  
  
Who knows, maybe that's where he'll find the inspiration for Mr. Specter's next set of suits. He'll definitely be bringing his ledger.  
  
  
 **THE END**


End file.
